Starting Over

Violet Spiraling

Without responding, I glanced at my opponents. "I'm all in," I exclaimed, pushing the mountain of poker chips to the pot. Only two people were still in the game with me, and neither would guess I was bluffing. With my smirk and confident pose, these guys assumed I had a great hand, both folding instead of matching my bet. I threw the cards to the dealer and hugged my pile of money.

Cashing out, I beckoned Tiffany to have a smoke with me. "Damn, sis, you gotta find a new job," she exclaimed after I told her of the day's events. "Trust me, you don't wanna live with your bro forever. I'm still stuck with mine and they're drivin' me nuts."

"What am I gonna do, though?" I took a long drag off my cigarette, pondering for a moment.

"Get back into dealing. Andy's lookin' for someone, and you prolly got enough customers already... you know, from high school." She blew smoke out of her nose, lost in thought. "And it's not like anything would happen if you're caught cuz you got connects. You must have a shit ton of friends in that biz now."

I shrugged, glancing at Andy and his meathead 'bodyguards' who stood near the corner, sipping on liquor out of a brown paper bag. There was a wad of money in my pocket waiting to give him a down payment. Selling could be a quick way to make cash, pay off debts, save enough for a deposit on an apartment, and hold me over until I got a new job.

Without consciously realizing it, I strolled up to my ex-boyfriend and tapped him on the shoulder, asking to do business with his gang. He didn't trust me at all, throwing out a belligerent cackle at first, but when I thrust the money towards him, we were suddenly on our way to his place for my supply.

A short two blocks from the bar, Andy's apartment greeted me with the familiar aroma of beer + weed + El Salvadorian food. It brought me back to my teenage years when I was head over heels for the badass, drug-dealing musician, blinded by his charm and good looks. Now I could see his true colors: a dead-beat wannabe gangbanger, covered in tasteless tattoos and oily hair, still living with his parents. Thank you, Gabe, for helping me escape this pitiful relationship.

"Are you remembering the last time you were here and we fucked on that couch?" He chuckled and placed his hands on my hips, pulling me forward so I was against him, erection poking my thigh.

"Ew, get off," I said as he tried to give me a slobbery kiss.

He gripped my arms, giving me a cutting scowl. "You sure you ain't plannin' to fuck me over again?"

"I already gave you half the dough, so get the fuck off me and let's get a move on."

Shaking his head, Andy half-grinned, fingers tightening around my bicep. "You still like it rough, bad girl?"

"What do you think?" I sneered, elbowing him away.

"You want the product, you're gonna have to submit to me tonight."

"Barf. What makes you assume I'd want your nasty cock?"

He lurched forward, hand now grasping my throat. "You know you want it," he cooed. "But that's the deal. Take it or leave it."

"Fine," I spat. No matter how much I'd taught him about the BDSM lifestyle, Andy didn't get it, and tonight there was no time to explain the difference between a bratty spanko and a submissive. I just wanted this to be over.

Andy yanked me to his room and ordered me to undress while he searched in a drawer for rope. I silently obeyed, drunkenness numbing the thoughts of how absurd this was. I decided to give him a show, shaking my hips as I eased my pants down, whipping them off. It was hard to keep from laughing as I did the same with my shirt, finally insisting he put on music.